“I know those stories,” Bernard said. “But the Libyan Sibyl made her home in Siwa, an oasis in the deserts of present-day Egypt. Far across the Mediterranean. The boy will never make such a long journey and live.”
Erin recognized this truth and remained silent.
Taking this as acquiescence, Bernard drew straighter. “We’ll take them both to Rome.” He waved to Christian. “Carry the boy. I’ll take the woman.”
Bathory stepped between Christian and Tommy. “You shall not.”
Bernard looked upon her with fury. “If the boy cannot be healed here, if he can’t reach Siwa, what then?” he pressed. “At least if we can get him to Rome, to St. Peter’s Basilica, he may yet live long enough to bless the book and reveal its secrets.”
“So you don’t really care if the kid lives or dies?” Jordan asked, placing a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “As long as he delivers the goods.”
Bernard’s angry expression answered that.
Erin joined Bathory. “This child’s life is more important than any secrets.”
Bernard confronted them, waving an arm to the spreading pall in the sky. “Ash still falls. What has been broken has not been set to right. We have seen the gates of Hell cracking open beneath the boy. It has slowed, but it is inevitable. What has been opened must be closed. We have until the sun sets this day to stop it.”
“Why sunset?” Erin asked.
Bernard looked to the skies. “I have read the stories of this place. If the gates of Hell are cracked open during the day, they must be closed before the day’s last light or nothing will close them again. This is more important than any single life, including the boy’s. Unless we act now, innocents beyond counting will surely die.”
“But it is that act that I find suspect,” she said.
Jordan kept to her side. “I’m with Erin on this.”
The countess stood firm. “As am I.”
Rhun looked uncertainly at them, hovering between them and Bernard, who had the weight of a dozen Sanguinists at his back. “So what do you propose to do, Erin?”
“We forget about the Gospel, about prophecy, about saving the world. We turn all our strength to saving this one boy, a child who has suffered beyond measure. We owe him that much. He was afflicted with immortality because of a single act of trying to save an injured dove. He is that dove to me. I will not let him perish.”
Bathory’s cold hand found hers. Jordan’s warm fingers grasped her other.
“Siwa’s healing waters were said to be so strong that the sibyl herself used them to regenerate herself, to keep herself immortal.” Erin stared down at the woman, wondering how an angel could look so ashen and frail. “We can still get them there before sunset. Heal them both.”
“The boy will surely die before you reach there,” Bernard argued. “Rome is only—”
Rhun cut him off. “How do you plan to cure the boy in Rome?”
“We have doctors. We have priests. But even if there were none, the most important thing is blessing the book at St. Peter’s.”
Rhun frowned his dissatisfaction. “What makes you certain that the book will reveal its secrets in Rome?”
“Because it must.” The cardinal touched his pectoral cross. “Or all is truly lost.”
Rhun’s gaze moved from Erin to Bathory. “Bernard, you place too much weight on reaching St. Peter’s.”
“It is where the Blood Gospel was opened and returned to the world.”
“But the book was taken there based upon the words of both Erin and Bathory Darabont. Yet, now, here we stand, with Erin again and another of the Bathory family, both telling you to take the boy to Siwa. While we do not know with certainty who the Woman of Learning is, in this instance it does not matter. They both command the boy be taken to Egypt.”
“Not just us,” Erin added, and she pointed to Arella. “Another woman does, too. An angel who, by your own word, found you unworthy in the past.”
Bernard fell back a step from her words, but they only seemed to inflame his anger. “Rome is only an hour away,” he insisted. “We go to St. Peter’s and get the boy whatever care he needs. If I’m wrong, he can be prepped there for the long journey to Siwa.”
“By then it may be too late,” Erin said, waving to the cloaked sun.
Christian headed off, eyeing those same skies. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll get the bird warming up. You tell me where to go.”
“Christian is right,” Jordan said, as ash fell ever heavier around them. “This foul air may make the decision for us. If the ash gets any thicker, no one’s going anywhere.”